A 1Derful Fantasy

Hey! This is going to be a 1D fairy tale. Minus all the magic. Hope you like it.


2. Mother in the Mirror

I ran home. My right middle finger feeling empty. Why did he take it? Was all I could think of. I wiped a tear that had escaped my eye because of the cool wind blowing into my eyes. When I reached the door I caught my breath. Opening the door I saw my father sitting at the fire place, watching the flames roar and the hearing the burning wood pop. His light brown hair appearing golden in the fire light. His grey eyes reflecting the colors of the flames.

I walked toward him and kissed his cheek. "Hello, Papa."

"Ah. There you are, Izzy." I giggled at him calling me by my nick name. "How was the village?" I loved how Papa was always wanting to know how I felt about things.

"It was good. Um. Papa?" My mind wandered to the party tonight.


"There's a party at the palace tonight. Could I go?" I asked afraid that he'd say no.

His eyes opened wide. "OF COURSE YOU CAN GO!!!" He yelled. "You need to go. Make friends. Have fun."

I smiled. "Really?" I was kind of excited. I had never been to the palace. It sounded like fun, but I was always taking care of Papa and could never go.

"Yes. Go." Once he said it a thought occurred to me.

"Never mind. I don't have a dress." I slunk into the kitchen to make myself some tea. I beat myself up for not thinking of a dress. I put the kettle on the fire and sat at the hearth.

"Izzy. Go look in your mothers chest." My father told me. 

"Yes, Papa." I got up and slowly walked to the back room. My mother used to be a seamstress, and when she died Papa and I stored all her stuff in the back room. It pained me to go back there and think of all the happy memories Mum and I had back here. One memory crawled it's way to the front of my mind. It was when my mum was teaching me how to sew when I was twelve. She sat me on a chair and I intently watched her skeleton like fingers carefully stitch a dress together. I reached the wooden door, and took a deep breath. I let my tears spill over. It was so hard for me to go back after six years. I remembered when my father thought I was sleeping, he would slip into this room and cry. His tears haunting me. I used to want to run to him. Tell him it was all going to be alright. But if I did that, I would be lying to him. Stretching my arm out I caught hold of the brass knob, and turned it while pushing the door open. Old fabric lined the small room. I spotted her chest with a jewelry box on top of it in the corner by the window.  Careful not to disturb anything, I tiptoed my way to the corner. The tops of the two boxed were covered in a thick layer of dust. I removed the jewelry box and set it aside. Running my fingers over the latches, I unbuckled the top. I pushed the lid up to reveal the many wonders that the wooden box held. On top was a beautiful, sleeveless,  pure black dress. Now I understood what Papa was saying. This dress wasn't big, but it was elegant enough for the party. I instantly stood up and changed from my old torn dress to the new midnight dress. Dusting the full length mirror that was close to me, I admired myself. It went oddly well with my dark eyes and my dark blonde hair. Then I remembered that it was a masquerade. I knelt back besides the smaller wooden box. The lid easily opened for me. Inside was a bunch of rings, bracelets, broaches, and necklaces, but under all that was a shining black mask. It had a string to tie around my head to support it while I wasn't holding it. I studied it closely and realized the triangles at the top were supposed to be cat ears. I smiled at it. Running out of the room, I also took a pair of shoes of the table as I was on my way out.

"Beautiful." Papa breathed as I entered the kitchen once again. I twirled around. Letting my arms fly out a bit. "I'll finish up your tea. Go finish getting ready." My father pushed himself up with his cane.

I ran strait for the washroom where my father had placed a mirror. I did my hair into and tight bun at the top of my head and tied the mask to my face. Lacing up my tall shoes I admired myself in the mirror. The dress went out around an inch out around my hips and floated out a little more. Around the feet it was about a three foot diameter. The sweetheart neckline complemented my chest and the tight torso made me appear smaller, even though I was only around 100 pounds. I curled the pieces of hair that I left out to frame my face and looked at myself once again. Instead of seeing me, I saw a beautiful young lady. The one in the mirror resembled my mother but it was certainly not her. It was me.

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